


All I Need Is A Piece Of You

by Lollilox



Series: Your Heart Only Beats For Me [4]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Ankle Cuffs, Blindfolds, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Handcuffs, High Heels, Lace Panties, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Fingering, a little bit of bondage for good measure, but like only slightly, crotchless panties, mild au where everyone knows where rika's apartment is, relationship bs, some jumin fluff, zen being a complete creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollilox/pseuds/Lollilox
Summary: On a rainy weekend morning, Jumin and MC discuss their current 'dating' situation, and Jumin brings another gift for MC. Before they're able to truly put it to good use, everything goes awry, leaving Jumin furious, and MC devastated.





	All I Need Is A Piece Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, bitch, I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> No promises for more but here's this.. whatever it is.
> 
> Merry belated Christmas.

Three weeks have passed since Jumin first took you. Since then, things have changed, and you're not certain it's for the better.

Jumin's possessiveness of you created a rift in the group that was almost instantly palpable.

After Jumin had his way with you four times, he left you to clean up and recover.  
You remember the ache in your body as you laid on the bed, your phone continuing to vibrate near constantly on the floor where it had fallen. Smitten, you hadn't minded the pain that came with being toyed with; though, as Jumin drifted from your side to the bathroom, you felt the sting of his hands, lips and teeth.  
You can almost still feel him inside you, even as you sit at the desk in your apartment, lips pursed and scrolling through the chat on the messenger.

Three weeks of scrolling, and you are back to staring at your own flushed and love drunk face - the first of many photos that Jumin has since sent to the group.  
Yoosung and Jaehee pretend it doesn't bother them, but Seven is keen to let you know that those photos are now in his 'private collection' - whatever that means.  
Zen, on the other hand, has gone almost completely silent. For all the time he spent angrily defending your honor in the first few days after the original photo, his enthusiasm has all but died.  
He still pops into the messenger every so often to badmouth Jumin, and check in on you, but, Zen's presence is now a rare thing in the messenger.  
You're not sure what Jumin's goals are when it comes to why he is posting lewd photos of you for all of your friends to see, but it seems clear that whatever is transpiring, Zen is not pleased with it.

Today, Jumin has neglected to touch you at all. His usual morning routine on the weekend is to let himself into your apartment and have his way with you before he attends to personal business.

Rain splatters against your window loudly, an angry rumbling in the darkened sky, echoing your current mood. Jumin hasn't spoken to you at all - not even a good morning call - or graced you with his presence.  
You're beginning to wonder if he's grown tired of you when there's a knock at the door.

You heave yourself up out of your chair, morosely tearing your eyes from the window to open the door for your visitor.  
Doubt seems to wash over you as you place your hand on the knob. You're hoping to see Jumin's face, so much so that you don't want to be disappointed early by looking through the peep hole and seeing someone else. Like Zen.  
If it was Jumin, he'd likely call first, and rile you up by whispering sensual things to you over the phone.

The door swings open, and you direct your gaze at the person's shoes.  
A shiny pair of dress shoes stares back at you, and you lift your head so quickly you can feel your neck complain.

Jumin stares back at you, a casual hand slipped into his pocket, the other carefully holding an artfully wrapped black box. "Good morning," he smirks at the dumbfounded look on your face and slips the hand from his pocket to shake the water droplets from his hair. "The storm held me back at home. I had an important meeting with a Bavarian investor, or I would have called."  
For a few seconds too long, you stare at him. He looks like a high fashion model, so casually unaffected by something so unoriginal as rain. You pull your sweater closer to yourself to try to cover up the fact that you look, well, a little unkempt, and you haven't even been outside yet. "That's all right," you reply, tucking your hair behind your ears simultaneously, realizing you're blushing all too late. "I wasn't waiting for you."  
Jumin's fine brow arches, and you scramble to make it sound much less offensive.  
"I mean..." It's no use, you can't come up with anything except a tawdry, "It's not like we're exclusive."  
This seems to take him by surprise as he enters the apartment casually, sliding off his shoes to step into the slippers you'd bought for him a while ago, after your first time being fucked by him - once you'd gotten the feeling back in your legs.  
"Would you like to be?" He asks, his tone level.  
This throws you for a loop. As far as you're concerned, there's no one for you but Jumin. His claws are in you, deep, and though he might enjoy parading you around as a conquest to the group, you never thought that he'd be interested in pursuing a real relationship with you. You're... no one special. Just a girl, with an overwhelming crush on an unattainable man.  
"W-Well, yeah," you begin, already floundering, "b-but I'd like a diamond the size of my fist, too, and that just isn't going to happen."  
Jumin's brow remains perked, and you try again.  
"You're, _you_ ," gesturing to all of him, you allow him time to attempt to process your analogy, "and I'm... me."  
He sets the box down on your bed, and licks his lips before choosing his words carefully. "Are you questioning my taste?"  
Immediately you shake your head. "No, no!"  
"What is it then?"  
You hesitate, suddenly quite embarrassed of your state in life, caught between all these beautiful, successful people, all by accident. You've never felt less proud of yourself in your entire existence.  
"I don't have anything to offer you," you admit, dropping your gaze.  
Jumin sighs as he shrugs off his suit jacket and lays it across the back of your computer chair, disregarding your put down of yourself. "Are all lower class people so humble, or is it just you?"

There's a few beats of silence, interrupted by loud crashes from outside your window and the racket of fat raindrops pelting your window, unyielding in their intensity.  
"You said it yourself - I'm lower class," you mumble.  
"That's not what I meant."  
"I'm not girlfriend material, not compared with what the rest of the upper class girls can offer."

Your latest revelation has you feeling about as small as a broken grain of rice. Sure, you like Jumin... and you have fun with him... and when he's not there, you miss him with such intensity it's ridiculous, but somewhere in your heart you knew it would always be temporary. At work, you still don't appear to know each other beside a bizarre friendship which calls you into his office every now and again.  
Jaehee has kept the entire photograph thing under wraps, probably more for Jumin's sake than your own. Nary a peep of your mutual fascination with Jumin has been publicized past the messenger group.  
"Does that matter?" Jumin queries, "I want you."

You blink at him, not daring to believe your own ears.  
"You want _me_?"

He nods.  
"As your girlfriend?" You probe. "Exclusive girlfriend?"

Jumin nods again.

"I thought you'd take it better - you're usually very agreeable." Jumin teases, probably amused by the emotional roller coaster that is your expression.  
You can't tell if you want to laugh, cry, or both. In the end, you settle for a smile, even if it is riddled with incredulity. "I... don't know what to say."  
"Then don't say anything at all."

Efficiency has always been one of Jumin's best traits. Everything he does, he does it to the best of his ability, and with the dedication of what you can only describe as a well-oiled machine. He's wasted no time in telling you he wants you to be his, and only his. As if it was ever a contest. Even with your earlier fumble of putting your foot in your mouth, you suspect he knows this. Jumin has you addicted, helplessly hooked on his passion, his thirst, but how far that will get you in terms of a relationship, you have no idea.  
Jumin seems to want to explore it, and you'd be an idiot to turn him down. So you don't.

His hands slide down your sides as he nears you, ready to seal it with a kiss.

You're overcome by desire as his lips meet yours, and you realize that this is the first kiss that doesn't have an urgency to it, like he's not expecting it to lead into a romp in your bed.  
It's sweet, almost tentative.  
Just before his hands slide too far down your body, his lips separate from yours with a soft smack, and you're left breathless, overwhelmed, and itching for more.

The whole idea of Jumin becoming your boyfriend is bizarre. He seems to have slowly transitioned from a libidinous force to be reckoned with, to a man you would consider introducing to your mother.  
You realize you have no idea what's going on by the time Jumin gestures to the box on your bed. You've just entered into a relationship with Jumin Han, and you feel a bit like you've lucked out and won the lottery without even having bought a ticket.  
"Are you going to open my gift?" Jumin queries, his slate grey eyes peer at you, his minutely expressive brows raising to see if you will take the bait.  
"You don't have to bring something every time you come over," you mention, not that you're complaining about the gifts to date. They've all been well used, and cherished.  
Your fingers find the ribbon on the top, and pull at it, to take the lid off.  
"Don't worry, this is for me." Jumin remarks, watching your reaction as the lid comes off, and your fingers lift away the lavender colored tissue paper.

You can hardly believe your eyes as they cast upon a raunchy little outfit - a minute black skirt, a matching, strappy bra-turned-shirt, and the kicker: a pair of black lace, crotchless panties.  
All thoughts of a pure, innocent romance have burst into flames like a phoenix regenerating itself. Girlfriend you may be, but it doesn't seem to have changed Jumin's want for you. If anything, by the way he's staring at you now, it feels like he's already undressing you in his mind.  
Flushing pink, you hold up the bra, heart already thumping at the possibility that this may lead to a definitive fucking.

"Try it on." Jumin suggests, his voice already dangerously close to turning the suggestion into a command.  
"Okay," you agree, shrugging out of your sweater to put it with Jumin's on the computer chair. "I.. I'll just be a minute." You take the clothing (or lack thereof) into the bathroom with you, letting out a sigh as you're given a few minutes of privacy. You wish you had more, to adequately bathe yourself and prepare for Jumin, but a hasty tingle in your stomach has begun to form at the prospect of having Jumin's naked form pressed against you again.

About ten minutes pass as you give yourself a quick once over in the shower, and put your hair into a high ponytail. You shimmy into the bra and panties, and slip the short skirt over your hips, realizing that you look like someone completely different in the mirror. The woman staring back at you knows exactly what's going to happen next, and is wholly prepared for it.  
You feel a charge of sexual energy buff up your confidence. You know Jumin will find this getup irresistible. He has wonderful taste, after all.

Exiting the bathroom slowly, your gait seems to have turned into a strut, and you only wish Jumin had the foresight to bring some high heeled shoes, too.  
Coincidentally, when you open the door, Jumin stands a few paces away, holding a pair of glossy black heels, and a shiny black choker that almost looks like a collar.  
He looks absolutely gobsmacked, eyes wide with shock and desire as he scours your body in its racy clothing.  
You take the heels from him, and slip them on as gracefully and sexily as you can manage, and turn around so your back is facing him to allow him to put the necklace on you.

His fingers brush against your neck as he fastens it in place, but they don't stop there.  
Slowly, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and shoulders, eliciting a soft breath from your lips.  
You can feel his warmth as he brings his lips to your ear, and his voice drops into a husky whisper.

"Bend over," he commands. His eyes are sharp as he rakes his gaze across your form.  
You oblige, glowing pink all over. Your body bends at the waist, your lower half indecently exposed by the short skirt that shows off the delicate curve of your backside as you grasp at your knees.  
Is it too much to hope that this time, Jumin will touch you? He's been starving you of intimacy for too long today already, making your body ache and contort with anxious despair.  
Wildly, your heart gallops in your chest, yearning for what only a passionate clash of Jumin's body against yours can achieve.

The latest gift Jumin has given you leaves little to the imagination. Strips of black lace thread between your legs and up your lower back - splitting unceremoniously over your beckoning, welcoming pussy.  
As embarrassing as it is to be put on display, it makes you feel desirable and sexy, like your body is powerful enough to keep Jumin's attention as long as you want it.

Jumin's eyes scour you like they're trying to devour you whole. The allure of the scandalous panties has his gaze glued to your rump, his lips stretching into a knowing smirk. It's devious, like he expected this visage even before having given the gift to you... like he knows exactly what you're going to do next.

"Put this on," he voices the words with husky desire as he produces a thick band of satin out of the breast pocket of his unbuttoned suit jacket, "and get on the bed."  
Confusion washes over you as you take the satin from him. You must look like a startled doe, fingering the soft band gingerly, seeing as Jumin points at your eyes.

A blindfold.

A rivulet of doubt shivers up your spine. You trust Jumin with your body, but is it enough for you to willingly give your sight up for him?

Your hesitation seems to cause Jumin's stare to scour you again, his methodical, clever brain quickly able to root through your emotions and weed out your truest thoughts.  
"Is that a problem?"

"No," you reply, eager to prove yourself to Jumin. You want to keep up with him, and you want to feel pleasure again.  
Your fingers are deft as they press the fabric against your closed eyelids, following the line of smooth satin to the back of your head where you tie it comfortably.

The blindfold is so well made and contoured to your features that you cannot see anything past the black abyss of potential.  
Without even realizing it, you can feel your body responding positively. You may have lost your sight, but you find yourself tantalized by the idea of listening intently for cues and feeling things before anticipating them.  
Climbing onto the bed on your hands and knees, feeling for the bed sheets, Jumin's warm hands find your hips and reposition you so that your face is blushing wildly against the plush cotton sheets, while your back is arched and your ass is raised and on display for Jumin, your knees parted.

The move is so unanticipated, you gasp softly, moaning into the covers with enticement, wondering how lewd you must look with your pussy on display, thanks to the crotchless panties.

Jumin seems to gauge your reaction as a positive one. "Shall I continue with my third gift?" He asks you the question, leaving it to hang in the air as you absorb his velvety words.  
"There's more?" You echo, stupidly.  
He chuckles darkly. "If you only knew," he voices, seeming to reminisce with himself about some fond, sexually-charged memory, "the things I've wanted to do to you for so long..."  
His reply has your heart charging in your chest, threatening to burst out of your body to leap at Jumin. Your blush deepens, and you give a meek nod to his original question. Whatever he wants to do to you, you trust him.  
"Very good," he rumbles, his tone rugged and erotic. "Clasp your hands around your ankles."

His command strikes you by surprise again, but you have already decided to surrender your power to him. In a way, it feels liberating as you do as he says, and he begins to attach cuffs around your ankles and wrists.  
There must have been another compartment to the box for shoes and whatever sort of wanton device that's being attached to you.  
A small tug confirms that there is a short chain between them, and when you attempt to move your hands away, the cuff around your ankles tethers you into your original position.

A moan of desire rumbles from Jumin's throat as he stares you down - or so you assume - pausing to appreciate your body in all its glory. Your knees are still spread apart, waiting anxiously for Jumin to touch you and turn your body inside out with pleasures that make your heart ache with fullness. Your exposed skin is littered with goosebumps, anticipating a warm slip of a finger, or the pressure of lips against your flesh.  
You'd never taken Jumin for a betting man, but he bet that this contraption, and the blindfold, would be something you would enjoy... and he was right.

Slow, excruciating seconds pass as you hear nothing but the incessant pelting of rain against your window, and the loud roar of thunder, but you feel as if he's circling you like a wily lynx stalking its prey. He's quiet, refined, save for the slight scuffing sound of his slippers against the floor of your apartment.  
When you hear him speak, his voice sends shivers up your spine.  
"I'll be right back."

What?

There's a shuffle, a muffled voice, and you hear the door open and close a couple times intermittently, though which door, you're not quite certain. The rain seems to pick up into a torrential downpour, and the thunder seems more frequent.

When you finally hear him stride toward the bed, his gait seems almost uncertain as he approaches you.  
"What's the matter?" You ask, suddenly feeling very foolish. "I look silly, don't I?"  
You move to get up, forgetting the cuffs, and only end up floundering enough to push your knees apart more, adding to the burning blush of stupidity searing across your features under the blindfold. "Maybe this was a bad idea," you venture, sullenly.  
Jumin seems to disagree, by the way his gait picks back up and he steps toward you, putting his hands on your rump, tentatively. It feels light, soft, like he's a virgin, cherishing the moment for the first time.  
Still, he says nothing, and you're starting to get discouraged again, as if he's forcing himself to entertain you in this ludicrous outfit, in that exposing position that he suddenly finds unattractive.  
"I thought you would like it." You pout; considering it was his idea, you expected a more enthusiastic response than a quick bathroom break and some silent, awkward patting. "Help me out of these then-"  
By the time he's moved again, you're near your limit with the cuffs and the position out of sheer shame, but a warm breath of air against your still slick pussy stops your words in their tracks, and you gobble them back up with a whimper.

You hadn't heard him move while you were prattling on about your insecurities, and in all the time you've spent with Jumin in your bed, and in other places, not once has his mouth ventured below your navel with passionate intent.  
The breath takes you by storm, but nothing can prepare you for the curious, hot tongue that flattens itself out and runs itself over the length of your slit from top to bottom.

"Mmm.. ohhh-" you moan the words, brought on by the brief passing of his tongue across your exposed clit.  
What little there had been, had been glorious, and your body arches again, angling itself toward this new side of Jumin.

Perhaps the blindfold and cuffs had been for him, so you couldn't see his shame. Was he a novice at offering oral sex? It would have made sense.  
The way he'd never divulged in it before now, and the hesitancy in his movements... it all seemed to line up.

Another few passes of the tongue, and the final one hits your clit just right, drawing another moan from your open mouth.

If he's an amateur, he's quickly picking up where to put his tongue by your responses alone.  
There's a delicious lapping noise as his nose buries between your ass cheeks and his hands grasp at your flesh harder, seemingly determined to lick the rest of the moans out of your body. You want to take over, and mount him in a fit of fervor, straddling his face to give him optimal access to your clit - but the cuffs are there for a reason, and tedious as it may be, you know it.

_Savor it_ , you can hear Jumin's voice whispering in your head, _I want you to cherish it_.

He seems to sense your enthusiasm and picks up the pace, alternating between a flat tongue circling your clit to a pointed sort of flicking that drives you wild with lust.  
You can feel yourself getting so wet that you're practically leaking into his mouth, and all thoughts of anything but the pleasure at hand simply melt away from your mind.

His groping hand finds your opening, running his index and middle fingers along your pussy to adequately moisten them before he slides a single finger in to the first knuckle.  
You respond with a moan, urging him to continue. His usual fare of fast, hard, and intense, seems to have vanished, though you almost wish he would bring it back. You've been in that position for ten minutes, and you're wet enough to take him in one swift thrust.  
The moan seems to have encouraged him, and his two fingers slide into you up to the second knuckle. With a certain deft fluidity, he curls them toward your navel, and you feel the first spasm of a body-rocking pleasure begin to build as he hits just the right spot.

Combined with the delicate rhythm that his tongue dances around your clit, a long string of loud moans leak from between your lips.  
Moving faster with his fingers, drawing them in and out of you, his lips involve themselves, closing around your clit to suckle at it as you helplessly wriggle on the bed; the intense sensation has your body jerking forward as far as it can to find some relief from the constant bombardment of pleasure, if for nothing more than to save yourself the embarrassment of having an orgasm too soon... but his free hand is pressing against your leg, pulling on the crook between your hips and thigh, chaining you in place just as good as any cuff.

You hear his fingers slapping against your wet skin, making your cheeks burn with erotic excitement, and you're squirming on the bed, mind blank of anything but Jumin and the concept of the pleasure he gives you.

"Ahh, ooh-" your moans are gaining volume now, interspersed with gasps for air against the cool mattress, "I'm going to-"

Just then, you hear a loud bang, and everything stops.

Startled, you attempt to look up and scramble into a sitting position without much luck. You're still pressed against the mattress when you hear Jumin's voice, coming from... near the bathroom.

"I knew you'd try something like this," he speaks evenly, but it's clear he isn't speaking to you. The tone is too hostile. Even at his angriest, or most lustful with you, you've never heard him so furious. It's the even tone, biting, cutting, harshly directed at the thing - the _person_ \- he hates the most. "You couldn't give her up."

It takes you longer than it should to realize that the person that has had their mouth and fingers all over your pussy was not your lover. This fact freezes you in your tracks, several tendrils of dread seizing you.  
You don't have long to consider who it could be before you hear footfalls, a forceful blow, and the fallout of the intruder falling to the floor.

"Jumin-" you whisper, all desire sapped from your voice out of desperation to be near him again.  
He responds immediately, working you out of your restraints and pulling you off the bed and into his arms as you yank off the blindfold.

Zen is on the floor, an ugly red welt splayed across his left cheek.

Suddenly, you feel sick to your stomach, and tuck yourself into Jumin's chest. Words fail you, but tears begin to well in your eyes. Shame, fear, disgust - they all riddle you, one by one, as you look at your former friend on the floor, and think nothing but, 'why?!'.  
You turn into Jumin more, as if you could dissolve into him, despondent and in dire need of his protection.  
Zen's once familiar gaze catches yours, and he scrambles to his feet. "I-It's a lie, MC!" He rambles, reaching for any thread he can find to erase the shock and terror from your eyes. "Jumin made it all up!"  
"Like you, locking me in the bathroom, then having your sick way with MC? You planned it long in advance, didn't you?" Jumin hisses, livid. "I don't know how you did it but it simply proves that you are a disgusting wretch. To go this far because she didn't want you? I'm going to call the police." He doesn't move to let you go, or reach for the phone in his discarded suit jacket draped across the back of your computer chair - it is a warning.  
You try to sift through the blank numbness threatening to settle in, and collect your thoughts.

Zen.  
Could he be capable of something so sinister as to wait for an opportune moment to barge into your apartment? Did Seven help him?  
The thunder could have covered up the sound of Jumin trying to escape the bathroom. He didn't have his phone, and Zen is physically fit. He could have caught Jumin by surprise and overpowered him in a struggle. You heard shuffling and muffled voices earlier. A cry from Jumin, muffled by Zen's hand?  
You can't tell what's real, and what's a lie. Everything has been turned on its head and you feel exhausted, and cling to Jumin for dear life, and clutch onto what remains of the scraps of your sanity.

"MC, PLEASE-" Zen begs, clearly desperate. "He's lying!"  
You don't know what to make of any of it. Thinking has become an arduous task, and you can feel a haze of denial settling in over everything. All you want to do is cry.  
"Get. Out." Jumin growls, barking the words at him that threaten more physical violence while his arms constrict around you protectively.

Brushing your nose against Jumin's chest, you close your eyes and feel yourself begin to shake.  
There's a moment of terse silence, a shuffle, and the sound of a door opening and closing once more.

It shuts with a click and not a bang, and it's this small detail that brings your world down around you.


End file.
